In My Daughter's Eyes
by iamtheunknown15
Summary: With a new case, House gains more than expected. Upon learning an ER patient is his child, he must work quickly to diagnose and save the girl's sick mother. In the process, House learns more of himself and the child he unknowingly left behind- ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1: Just Another Manic Monday

**Disclaimer**: I **do not own** House M.D.

**Premise**: With the coming of a new case, House gains a little more than he ever would have expected. When House learns one of the hospital's ER patients is actually his unbeknownst-until-now daughter, he also must work against the clock to save the teenage girl's mother who seems to be suffering more than trauma from an accident. In the process of this diagnosis, House learns more about himself and of the child he unknowingly left behind.

**A/N**: I had time to start my next story today :) I hope you enjoy. Please **review**!

"**Just Another Manic Monday"**

_Have to catch an early train  
Got to be to work by nine  
And if I had an air-o-plane  
I still couldn't make it on time_

Princeton-Plainsboro was a flurry of chaos when Gregory House finally saunters, or rather, limps in at one o'clock in the afternoon. Despite all of this, he planned on a day filled with sleep, teasing the team, and PSP as opposed to diagnosing. Much to his displeasure, Cuddy thwarts this plan before he even got to his desk.

Not even bothering to chastise him for tardiness (this, she had learned by now, was fruitless in attempt), she shoves a file into his hands. "New case," she says with a sigh, "Fifteen-year-old male who went into respiratory arrest during a football game…"

"Boring," House yawns, "It's EAI. Case solved." He attempts to push past her, only to her slide into the doorframe, completely blocking his path.

"He's been experiencing dizziness and nosebleeds for over a month now," she adds.

Sighing, House moves towards the glass doors of the outer office while responding, "Fine, then it's a pulmonary embolism that finally manifested itself. Start treating him with anticoagulants. Done."

"If you were on time today you'd also know that he began to experience intermittent paralysis of his lower extremities. He can't walk even walk." To House's look of intrigue, she responds with stressed sarcasm, "I know… cool." She promptly heads back towards her office where a pile of insurance forms, benefit phone calls, and a new list of complaints (all concerning House of course) await her.

House swings open the door to the office. "Good morning, minions," he greets, taking off his overcoat and draping it messily across the back of his chair. The team waits patiently, hoping to get to the newest case as soon as possible, and as a result avoid their boss's cynicism… well, at least some of it. "New patient: fifteen-year-old boy with intermittent paralysis, nosebleeds, and respiratory arrest," House begins.

"We know," Taub responds in his regular monotone, "Cuddy told us at ten o'clock this morning. You know, our work hours.

"That's a ten," House says, feigning shock, "I thought the 10 was interchangeable with 01. Gosh, I always did fail the place value section in grammar school."

"We ran a breathing examination," Foreman begins, unphased by House's childish behavior and hoping to get back on topic, "His breathing is still weak, so we have him on a respirator still. But we also found sign of dysphythmias."

"Alright, Thirteen, run an EPS on the patient to find the source of irregular heartbeat. Kutner, you get an _accurate_ history. Remember, teenage boys are pathological liars and mommy and daddy probably don't want to believe that their football playing golden child is actually a druggie whose been pilfering from their medicine cabinet. Foreman, Taub, you two check the home."

The team nods and heads out into the chaotic floors of the hospital. House grabs the hem of Thirteen's lab coat before she can leave and pulls her into his personal office. Spinning her to face him, he wraps his arms around her waist.

"House, we're at work," she says tensely.

"Relax; it's not like every in the hospital doesn't know we're together," he says. Thirteen shrugs and smiles; she can't really resist his touch. "Besides, even if I had thought Cuddy would flip out over our fondling one another at work, I would have made sure the shades were closed," he smirked, gesturing towards the drawn blinds. He places a kiss upon her lips and, chuckling, begins to slip Thirteen's lap coat off of her shoulders tracing his lips down her neck.

***

"House," Wilson calls from down the hallway as his friend heads towards the cafeteria for dinner. The latter quickens his pace, hoping to board the elevator before he can hear what is most likely another reprimand. Unfortunately, Wilson is quick and agile, slipping into the machine right before the doors closed.

With a groan, House inquires, "Yesss, Wilson?"

"They need you down in the ER. There was…"

"Eh," House interrupts. "Not my job. Cuddy was lucky that she actually got me into the clinic today."

"But…"

Again, House interjects, "The ER is not my responsibility; nor is it that of my team, so I'm not going to have Cuddy steal one of them either…"

"Shut up!" Wilson finally explodes. Surprised and quite amused by his friend's outburst, House quietly begs him to continue. "There's been a car accident; a bus slammed into the side of Volvo over in Lawrenceville, though they say the driver was intoxicated with something. The mom is in a coma from the incident and the girl needs a medical proxy."

"And this concerns me, how?" House inquires, unamused.

Wilson sighs. "Her medical records say she's your daughter."

_It's just another maEnic Monday_


	2. Chapter 2: Actually Happening

Disclaimer: I **do not own** House M.D.

A/N: I'm home sick again from school today, so here's another update :) Really hope you **enjoy**, and please take a couple of seconds to review (**anonymous reviews are on**, so even if you do not have a user name, you can leave a comment). Also, with each chapter, I am including lyrics from a song. This chapter was a bit harder to match… they're from "Here in Front of Me" by Passafire. The last chapter was "Manic Monday" by The Bangles. Feel free to suggest songs y'all like and I'll keep them in mind.

"Actually Happening"

_If there's a sign please let me know  
It's got me feeling uncomfortable  
Incidence is a terrible thing_

Wilson had never seen his friend speechless. Surprised, yes… but this was always soon followed with sarcastic wit of some sort. Now it was as though House was mute; lifting his cane, he presses Floor 2: ER, face completely emotionless.

A few minutes later, the two are staring across the hectic ER. Cameron locks eyes with House for a moment, clearly considering coming over. She decides against it, turning her concerned face away, and heading to aid another patient. House finally breaks his personal cone of silence and speaks. "What's her name," he asks simply.

"Who?" Wilson asks, "the mom or your… uh… your…"

"Both," House interrupts, not quite prepared to face the reality of the situation either.

"The mother is, uh," Wilson pauses to look down at a file, "Emma Coburn, a forty-five years old… "exotic dancer" and barista. Well then…" Wilson clears his throat.

House sighs, remembering something. "The girl's sixteen," he states.

Wilson looks down at the file and then at his friend quizzically. "How did you… you memorize when you hired your prostitutes?"

A look of insult flashes across Houses face. "No," he responds quietly, looking down at his sneakers. "We dated for a couple of months, before Stacey and all of that. She wasn't a hooker then. I…I didn't know she ever got pregnant. We must have already broken up."

"Oh." After a few more seconds of that uncomfortable silence, Wilson places his hand comfortingly on House's shoulder.

***

House inhales deeply before pulling aside the curtain to reveal the startled face of a teenage girl lying in a hospital bed. A large gash, now stitched, descends from right under her eye to her chin. The rest of her visible body is covers with scratches and bruises. Finally, a new, plaster cast encompasses her left arm; her right lay still in a sling, supporting her obviously disfigured collar bone. For the accident she had experienced, however, she fared quite well.

"Hello illegitimate offspring." The girl did not look pleased by House's unannounced entrance, or his joke.

"Most people ask to come in," she tells him sneeringly.

"Is that any way to speak to your mom's baby daddy?"

"Is your being a jerk any way to get me to like you?" She glares at him. House couldn't help but notice at this moment her eyes. They were a piercing blue, much like his… highly intimidating to most but with an almost unnoticeable glimmer of pain concealed in their depths.

"What's your name kid?" he asks, walking over to adjust her IV tubes. Medicine had always been simple for him; human confrontation, not so much. He hoped that focusing on the former would decrease a bit of the discomfiture of the other.

"Alice," she responds, turning her head slightly to face him. It was clear that she didn't shrink away from confrontation. House was vaguely proud of that. She inquires, "So, are you going to tell me your name?"

"I'd assumed they'd already told you."

"They did. I want you to introduce yourself in person." House supposed this made sense; after all, we was now her medical proxy among other things.

"House," he responds simply. Alice nods. So ended their first conversation.

***

House was reclining at his desk, head buried in his hands, obviously frustrated and strangely confused. Sure, he could handle "undiagnosable" disease, everyday searing pain (well, at least a bit), but this problem was different. It was not concrete and it began evoking emotions that he couldn't fathom, nor was he sure he wanted to…

He is broken out of his thoughts by a faint knock on his doorframe. "Hey." Looking up, House finds Thirteen, a slight smile, obviously artificial, upon her face. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course." He beckons her over to his desk. She goes to sit on the chair across the desk, but he stops her, inviting her to sit instead on his lap. Balancing herself on his good leg, she hears House let out a sigh. "I assume you've heard by now?" Thirteen nods. "I'm sorry I didn't come find you. I've honestly just been in here, trying to figure this mess out." He forces a small smile.

"No, no. I completely understand. I can't imagine, I mean, I never thought that…Gosh!" She too exhales a half-laugh/half-sigh.

"I know," House agrees with a nod.

"Have you, uh, met with the mother yet?"

He shakes his head. "She's still in surgery. I met with the girl though… Alice. It was… interesting. She's really… witty."

"You're surprised?" Thirteen kids. Chuckling, House places a kiss on the side of her head. "Do you know what you're going to do? I mean, not only with the proxy position but…" House interjects with the shake of his head; Thirteen nods. "Gosh, what a day!"

"On a brighter note, in spite of this all, I figured out what our patient has: hypokalemia exacerbated by hyperaldosteronism," House proudly states. Thirteen giggles, leaning over to kiss him.

"You would."

_I... is it actually happening?_


	3. Chapter 3: But Now I'm Confused

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D.

A/N: A couple of things that I completely did not clarify earlier. First of all, this is independent from my other fanfics so there will be no appearances of Ada. House and Thirteen, however, are in an established relationship (not married). Also, iyimgrace pointed out that I've been writing in the present tense. Totally didn't notice that (I wrote the first two chapters when I was sick and guess that messed with my head, lol). So, that will be changing from now on. Finally, time-wise, this takes place mid-fourth season. So, **Amber and Wilson are together and Kutner is still alive…. and Thirteen still doesn't know if she has Huntington's, though House still wants her tested.**

Thanks for the reviews and for reading. The song for this chapter is "Something Vague" by Bright Eyes

"But Now I'm Confused"

_Now and again it seems worse than it is_

_But mostly the view is accurate…_

House just stood there, feet firmly planted upon the gray tile floor of the hallway. He was frustrated, completely irate… with himself. This should not be so hard for him. After all, he simply had to be a medical proxy, wasn't required to be _anything_ more. And it wasn't a difficult job at all in this case; the kid wasn't deadly ill, requiring choices that were life or death in result. The biggest decision he had to make so far was whether or not to send her into surgery for her disfigured collar bone… not so hard to determine.

That's what he was supposed to be telling her now, that she had to go into surgery, a three hour procedure to reposition her clavicle. Instead, he remained frozen, seriously contemplating relinquishing the proxy position to Cuddy. God, he was messed up…

"Having some trouble," he heard someone say. Turning around, he saw his girlfriend giggling.

"Just resting the ol' leg," House said, rubbing his hand over his bad thigh. Complete lie…

That Thirteen obviously wasn't falling for. Darn! Walking over to him, she stood up straight, hands on hips, and looked him directly, her crystallite eyes piercing his. "Sure you are," she responded sarcastically. House sighed and Thirteen softened her stare, taking his hands in hers. "You okay to do this?" She obviously doubted him (and knew him far too well).

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She looked into his eyes again, trying to examine him to the core. "No, you're not." With that, she grabbed Alice's file from under his arm and headed towards the girl's room, leaving House alone with his thoughts.

***

The clicking of her heels on the marble was the only thing keeping Thirteen calm. She was nervous, because actually going to meet House's daughter made this situation so much more… real. Just across the glass divider, someone half-House, someone with half of his genes, was laying. Her gut told her that this girl was going to become a part of their lives, even if House hadn't realized it yet.

But thinking, not acting, was now driving her crazy. It'd always been like that for her… she had to do. Life was unpredictable and not knowing when it was going to end made her not want to waste any time. Taking in a deep breath, she slid the door to the side.

"Hi," she said with a smile, "I'm Dr. Hadley." The girl nodded, looking away. There was a frown on her face. "Are you in pain?" Thirteen asked her concerned, "There are other pain medications we can try if you're not responding to the codeine well."

"No, I'm fine," she responded, taking a deep breath and attempting to adopt less despondent façade. "I was just thinking…" After a pause, she asks, "So, I assume you're here to update me on my mother."

"Uh, yeah," Thirteen stuttered, taken back a bit by the girl's forwardness (then again, she was biologically related to House). "She's still in surgery. They need to make sure her internal injuries are precisely repaired or it will be a risk later on." Alice's face remained emotionless, even indifferent as she responded with a brief nod. This reaction was confusing, and Thirteen couldn't help but wonder why this girl was so apathetic towards her mother, who was in critical condition. And it reminded her… "Uh," she began, breaking herself of some painful memories, "you're also going to need surgery on your clavicle to reposition it. Slapping some x-rays on the lighted screen, she showed her how the bone was cracked in two places.

"Shouldn't my medical proxy being telling me this," Alice whispered bitterly.

"I'm sorry," Thirteen said sympathetically. "He had to analyze test results for our patient," she decided to fib. Alice saw right through that.

***

"House," the doctor heard his name being yelled. Turning around, this time he was not greeted by a concerned Thirteen, but rather, his boss. Cuddy quickened her pace over to him. "Hey, I heard about… everything," she struggled to phrase.

"Jealous," House asked, jabbing at her strong desire to become a mother.

Cuddy countered with a scowl. "I _was _coming to see if you were alright, but obviously you typical behavior proves that you're fine as always."

"Yeah," House responded shortly, "Okay then, if you're satisfied with ending your pointless inquisition before it begins, I'm going to go." Spinning himself around rapidly, he began to limp off. He was called back.

"Wait!"

"Yesss mommm," House groaned.

"Also, I was just paged. The mother's out of surgery tomorrow morning. Go see her." With that she turned brazenly, returning in a strong gait back to her office, leaving House staring at his shoes. "Oh," she informs, turning around once more, "by the way, that's an order, not an option."

***

That night, House fell asleep with a bottle of whiskey by his side. Thirteen was busy with the new case, but regardless he frankly just wanted to be alone. After laying flat on his bed in a drunken stupor for hours, he finally dozed off only to have his night be consumed with horrifying nightmares.

They weren't nightmares though, they were memories of realities. And he woke up in a cold sweat, his images of his childhood burned in his mind. Only this time, he was his father and Alice was the one locked outside.

_Do these dreams have a meaning…_

_Something vague that we're not seeing, _

_Something more like a feeling_


	4. Chapter 4: Save Me

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D.

A/N: I'm back to writing! So sorry for the hiatus.

Song: Love, Save the Empty – Erin McCarley

**Chapter 4: Save Me**

_Little girls don't know how to be sweet girls.  
Mama didn't teach me._

Emma woke to beeping. Beeping and an unbearable headache. Damn, how much had she had to drink? With a conscious effort, she forced her eyes to flutter open. Where in the world was she? White walls…tile floor… stiff bed. Definitely not the sofa in her apartment where she normally crashed, and she'd have to have had a really peculiar client with anal retentive decorative tastes… not that she'd remember.

Before she could further examine her surroundings, she was greeted by some balding, middle aged man. Her client? Okay, the decorum was making more sense now…

"Miss Coburn, my name is Dr. Taub. You're at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital. You were in an accident…" That's right! Suddenly it all came back: the long wet road, the glow of the stop light, she didn't stop… she couldn't remember. Oh God, the accident! Her face! Did she cut up her face? She'd lose her freakin' job if she didn't have _her_ face. She opened her mouth so as to speak, but a piercing shot of pain stopped her.

"You may be very sore, though we have you on a moderate dose of morphine right now. You were injured in the accident. You had severe brain swelling and were in danger of going into a coma upon admission. You immediately underwent surgery to relieve the swelling, to seal a severed artery in your left arm, and to remove your spleen, which ruptured. Everything was successful and we didn't have put a shunt in your skull. You should make a full recovery." Okay, no mention of plastic surgery… that's good. But does she have a scar. A lot of cover-up _could_ work but…

"Your daughter was also injured in the crash. The direct impact was on your side of the car, but the force caused her to be thrown out of the vehicle. She went through the windshield and landed several yards away; she was very lucky. She had a large gash on her face; no fracture of her skull, luckily, but a Grade 3 concussion that will need to be monitored. Her collar bone broke in two places, but other than that she just had moderate lacerations, some stitched, and bruising." That's right; Alice was with her. Why? She struggled to remember…

"Now that you're awake, we could bring her into see you," he paused, " Up until now, she's had a… uh… medical proxy to make decisions for her while you were unconscious." Princeton Plainsboro: she knew where this was heading. "Uh… Gregory House."

As though it was an introduction, House limped into the room at that moment. "Hi Emma."

"I'll, uh, leave you two alone," Taub stuttered awkwardly, fleeing the room.

"Hey, Greg." God, how hot he was. Even after all of these years…

House interrupted her thoughts, "I sent Alice into surgery to fix her collar bone this morning. It was successful. She should be recovered from the anesthetic soon. They my gi… one of her doctors will bring her down."

She smiled softly, "How have you been?"

"Wonderful, actually. I'm a gimp, a druggie, and a misanthropic SOB according to most. And you…hear your finally getting paid for your talents; so proud!" After a pause, he continued, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd care."

"Sure…" he responded sarcastically, taking a seat at the end of her bed.

"Fine. I started dating a month after us. I… I told him that it was his so he wouldn't be jealous."

"And he…" House introduced.

"Left in the eighth month," she responded sheepishly.

"What a catch!" he said, again resuming a standing position. Looking out the window, Emma saw her daughter being wheeled into the room. She was frowning, as per usual. Weren't life-threatening injuries supposed to make you reevaluate your life… make you find some sort of contentment with it?

"Hey Alice. How are you feeling, Sweetie?"

"Just peachy," she responded, gesturing to her casted arm, "You?"

"Better now that you're here," Emma said with a smile.

"Nice response," Alice retorted, acid tone, "What lifetime movie did you get that from?"

"Alice, come on…"

"No, mom. If you hadn't been at that bar looking for…" she looked away, "You know, just forget it. Won't make any difference. It's only your life, right. I'd like to go back to my room, please, Dr. Hadley. Dr. Hadley?" Not receiving a response, she turned back, only to find Thirteen looking at her mother's bed, perplexed.

There was her mother, convulsing furiously upon her bed, yellowish foam escaping her mouth and staining the white sheets. "10 milligrams of lorazepam, stat," House called out.

Alice watched silently as Dr. Hadley stabbed her mother in the arm with a syringe. Noticing her presence, a nurse wheeled her away, not wanting to expose her to something so upsetting. Didn't really matter to Alice. She was disturbed enough already.

_Again, the false affection.  
Again, we break down inside.  
Love save the empty._


	5. Chapter 5: Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D.

A/N: Hey guys! I have a new **poll** on my profile. Please participate if you get the chance. Thanks!

Song: In Transit- Mark Hoppus and Pete Wentz

**Chapter 5: Truth**

_The world is filled with  
The minds of people who try to discuss  
A light will shine through  
When no one can save you_

Gregory House stared through the Plexiglas window at the ruddy-haired woman now unconscious on the starch, white hospital bed.

Then he counted.

Sixteen years: it had been almost sixteen years since this woman had given birth to his biological child; fifteen years and one month, according to his calculations, since he dated her. Two days five hours and fifteen minutes since the time when he was unaware someone with half of his gene pool was wandering the streets but miles away. Two days five hours fourteen minutes and thirty seconds since he received the what, to this point, was the biggest curveball of his life. One day five hours ago he met this curveball, a cynical pubescent adorned with plaster but an even stronger frown; ten minutes ago, he re-met her mother. And now?

Two minutes ago he took her case

"Thirty-nine year old female with head trauma has an epileptic seizure."

"And..?" Kutner queried skeptically, "She smashed her head against the dashboard of a vehicle without an airbag deploying. I'd be surprised if there _wasn't _a neurological side affect."

"Tests also confirm that she has had multiple heart arrhythmias due to myocarditis, not due to the accident. Now, go!" House began, in an attempt to provoke his team's theories.

Unfortunately, it was in vain. Taub mouthed counting aimlessly; "So," he finished aloud, "she's thirty-nine now. That means she was… twenty-three when you were sleeping with her?"

"Very good, Christopher," House responded in a schoolteacher voice, patronizing and obviously unamused by what was to come.

Taub rolled his eyes and continued, eager to discomfort his boss, "And sixteen years ago made you, what, thirty-two/thirty-three. Guess you've always had a thing for younger women," he joked, looking accusingly across the table at Thirteen, who returned his glance with a piercing glare.

With a roll of her eyes, she looked up towards House and responded, "It may be Hypokalemic Syndrome. It could cause dysrhythmias as well as muscle spasms. Maybe her seizures weren't necessarily seizures. She was just coming out of anesthesia and could have easily fallen out of consciousness while having a spasm."

"It's a bit of a stretch," said Chase, "to have both occur at the exact same time. But I wouldn't rule it out, especially because she was recently on carbenicillin for a urinary tract infection."

"Thanks for _your_ approval," House said gruffly, before writing "HYPOKALEMIA" in bold, Expo marker on the white board.

"What about Chagas disease," Taub offered.

"Patient hasn't left the country," countered Kutner.

"Yeah, but it says here she was recently in Florida. In rare cases, the parasite is caught in the South. It would account for her symptoms," Taub shrugged. House proceeded to write "CHAGAS?" down.

"Could be delirium tremens," began Foreman, "the ER reports she was pretty intoxicated upon admission. Detoxing while coming out of anesthesia's a big stress on the system. Would account for the seizures, fast heartbeat…"

"Alright," House said, finishing the word 'TREMENS,' "Foreman and Taub, set up an EEG and monitor her temporarily to see if you can find evidence of seizures…and run a CBC to check for metabolic disorders. Kutner, examine her blood for parasites. Thirteen, Chase, you examine the house. I'll get patient history."

"How are you going to do that," Kutner asked, confused, "the patient is unconscious."

House turned in the doorway. "I have my sources."

"There's a window open cracked open over here," called Chase, "You said they lived on the first floor, right?"

"Yep," Thirteen returned, rounding the corner of the brick apartment building. "Is there a screen?" she said, looking towards the window.

"Nope," he said, reaching his fingers inside the house, "though I don't understand why. It's not the safest-looking place around, especially when you'd have a kid inside too."

"Yeah," Thirteen said with a sigh, examining her surroundings. Chase was right; it in no way was an "ideal" place for a kid, or anyone for that matter. Barbed wire fences barred off nearby vacant lots, pot holes laced the streets, a peek down a dark alley would receive a glare from a less-than-reputable looking junkie. Thirteen had to pity the mother; it couldn't have been easy to raise her daughter here, and she must have felt even worse not being able to afford to get out.

"Go it open," Chase said, breaking Thirteen out of her chain-of-thought. Carefully, she stepped on a pile of cinder blocks Chase had slid over and hoisted herself through the small window. The apartment was shadowy, lit only by the natural light of the window. "Apparently forgot the pay the electric," said Chase with a slight smile, holding up a note: "PAY ELECTRIC BILL MOM! DUE FRIDAY!"

Thirteen nodded. "Let's take a look around." The living room was relatively bare. A dingy old sofa was centered in front of a television. A coffee table held a good six months worth of Cosmo magazines, under which were more untouched envelopes. The kitchen also looked fine; the fridge contained a couple of containers of leftover Chinese food, a half-gallon of milk, and some cold pizza. It all looked okay, but Thirteen bagged it so as to not take the chance of missing something, especially with the electric being out for a few days apparently.

Yet, despite this, the rooms were clean. This surprised Thirteen a bit, considering that Emma didn't seem to be too concerned with her home, judging by the ignored bills. Continuing down the hallway, she found Chase in the bathroom, swiping the toilet and tub, but again, not finding much of a mess. The two then proceeded down to the first bedroom: Emma's. "I'll look in here," Chase said, sighing slightly at the mess he found. "You check the room across the hall."

Thirteen nodded and opened the door to the room; it was apparently Alice's, but one would have guessed it was that of someone much older. The bed was perfectly made; on the desk was a notebook with numerous calculations of… finances. A couple of endorsed checks lay next to it, signed _Alice Coburn_. The only indication that the bedroom was actually inhabited by a teenager was a book bag next to the chair and a couple of band posters on the wall. Thirteen wondered what life actually entailed for this kid. Suddenly, Chase appeared in the doorway. "Find anything?" he asked her.

"Nope," responded Thirteen, still perplexed, "At least nothing medically relevant."

House sat, file on his lap, staring directly at Alice, who returned the look with equal power. "So, what is it that you have to ask me," she said brusquely.

"Medical history for your mother. I'm taking her case."

"Is she bad?"

"Still hasn't woken up yet so we can't fully assess her status, especially mentally. She's physically stable at the moment though."

"Okay, what do you need to ask?"

"Have you noticed any changes in your mother's behavior lately?"

"Nope, nothing out of the norm."

"And what would "the norm" be," House asked, in part out of duty… and out of utter curiosity.

"Sleeps 'til one in the afternoon usually while the latest boyfriend watches tv. Has the lunch I made that morning or buys something from the deli or somewhere. Goes to work at four over at Stevie's in Ewing 'til midnight. Catches a ride home and goes clubbing closer to home if she's sober enough. Otherwise, she crashes on the couch by one a.m."

"Where's the boyfriend?"

"How am I supposed to know? I can hardly tell this loser apart from last."

"Oh, come on. Your mother must have great taste. After all, she dated me," he said, grinning with pride.

"My point exactly," retorted Alice teasingly, inciting an amused smirk from House.

"What about school, kid?"

"How does that have anything to do with my mother's condition?"

"It doesn't"

Alice shrugged awkwardly, still unable to move one shoulder. "School's… I don't know, school. Inedible cafeteria food. Stupid kids who don't pay attention. Teachers who set us up in front of a video because they pretty much want to blow their brains out after dealing with the behavior; I feel bad for them because they at least have to try. I just pretty much just sit there and daydream the whole day."

"Hmm," House nodded, processing the information. "Got friends?"

"Nope," Alice responded apathetically. "Not interested in getting high in the bathroom."

"Hmm," House again pondered. With a smirk he continued, "Guess you didn't inherit all of my genes then." With that, he popped a Vicodin into his mouth, exhibiting an unrepressed giggle from the girl.

"Alright," Alice said, "I answered your questions. Now you answer mine."

"Whatever, kid. I can take it."

"Where'd you go to med school?"

"Started off at Hopkins, got expelled, finished off at U Michigan."

"Hmm… what happened to your leg?"

"Got into a bar fight one night. Should have seen how the other guy turned out," he responded with false exuberance.

"Someone's evasive," Alice mumbled. Then with a mischievous grin she asked, "So, when did you and Dr. Hadley start dating?"

"We're not."

"Oh come on! The two of you were practically undressing one another with your eyes before when you were fixing my meds. I'll let you slide with the leg thing, but not this."

"God you're a petulant teenager," he complained before answering, "About six months now. Like I was saying before: this," he said, gesturing to himself, "irresistible." Alice rolled her eyes. "Any more questions then?"

Suddenly, Alice became very quiet, solemn even, as she looked away. Looking back slowly, she began, "Why do you ca…"

Before she could finish, Thirteen entered the room. "Hi Alice," she said with a smile, "Sorry to interrupt but, House, test results are back."

"Sorry kid, duty calls," House said, extricating himself from the chair and heading towards the door. "That, or she wants to hook up with me in the janitors closet." With that, he smirked and led a shocked Thirteen out of the room.

Alice smiled faintly before sighing. Turning around to look out the window, she frowned despondently, her biggest question still unanswered.

_The truth is never far away  
You always give yourself a way [I can't even smile]  
Through open eyes  
A slide of him  
Won't you reveal to me?_

Reveal to me

A/N: Thank y'all for your support. Please, please review. I really need the feedback, good or bad, to keep me on track. I hope this is starting to become a bit more interesting, but please let me know. I'd really appreciate it :D


	6. Chapter 6: Pieces

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D.

A/N: Sorry for the hiatus! I have a **poll** on my profile. Please participate if you get the chance. Thanks! Also, thank you **SO MUCH** for those who have reviewed, alerted, or favorited this fic :) This is more of a filler chapter (filled with medicine, so if you're scientifically inclined, feel free to theorize and I'll let you know if you're on track). I plan on trying to update again later today…

Song: Middleman by Bright Eyes

**Chapter 6: Pieces**

_So I have become the Middleman_

_The gray areas are mine_

_The in-between, the absentee_

_Is a beautiful disguise_

"The EEG showed signs of seizures, both grand mal and absence, but the CBC didn't show any excess nutrients. The only thing out of the norm was a slightly increased WBC count. It must be an infection of some sort," Taub relayed.

"Like that helps," Chase scoffed, "there are thousands of different sorts of infections. We don't know if it's a fungus or a virus or bacteria… The apartment was a mess, but none of the tests are coming back with anything that could have caused the patient's symptoms."

"And judging by the amount of time that's passed, we can rule out delirium tremens," Thirteen said with a sigh. House proceeded to cross out every theory on the white board.

"Alright then, blank canvas. Come on, my Picassos, grab your paint brushes. What else causes myocarditis and intermittent seizures?" House asked, crossing out all the former possibilities scribbled across his white board. His question was returned with silence and blank stares, to which he quirked his eyebrow. "Four highly accredited doctors and no ideas. I feel so comforted in the future of medicine. Come on, what are we missing?"

"If we knew, we would have told you," Taub responded grimly.

"Alright, what _could_ we be missing? We'll drop the definitive and head straight to the theoretical if you so please."

"The patient history isn't as accurate as it could be. We've purely been receiving secondary reports with the patient being unconscious at the moment," Thirteen said.

"And there's nothing at the moment we can do to rectify that," Chase rebuffed.

"Maybe we should rule out seizures as a symptom. Those could purely be due to the trauma," Foreman offered. House sighed, always in want for one inclusive theory, but relinquished and placed a wisp of a question mark next to "SEIZURE."

Thirteen looked up. "Without seizures as a cause, the most probable causes of myocarditis are infection, toxin, or allergy,"

"Alright," House said, "Toxin isn't likely considering we went through everything in the house. That leaves infection and allergy. Which should we test first…" Suddenly, a beeping filled the room and everyone scrambled for their pagers.

"It's Emma," Chase reported to House. "She's being rushed to emergency surgery for a brain hemorrhage."

House nodded, absorbing the information. Without a pause he continued, "We need the patient to conduct an immune panel and she won't be out of surgery until the morning. We already have a blood panel for her. Test for infection. Standard candidates."

"The results could take over a day," Taub interjected, "She doesn't have that much time if she's…"

"Just run the panel."

House lay down on the bed with an exhausted sigh, sinking deeply into the pillow. He didn't like to show his personal perplexity ever, despite the fact that he worked with some of the most confusing cases in the world. But this, the night after the work day was done, in private, was his one opportunity to let out a sigh and simply absorb the stress of the day… stress he probably didn't need with all of his problems. It was the time where he could feel the same sentiments as his team without having to take the higher road... he could feel hopeless. This mystery with Emma was more than challenging. There was more than a few pieces missing from the puzzle, but rather was a case in which the boundaries are present, but the entire middle is gone, and there isn't even a box lid to act as a guideline. Yet one he was still expected to solve, both by others and himself. House couldn't help but release a dry laugh; in his head, everything became a metaphor… but this time it wasn't helping. He popped a Vicodin.

Thirteen entered the room, her bare feet padding across the floor and her water drenched hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. She looked at him and her face morphed into one of concern. "Are you alright?"

House sighed, running his fingers through his pepper gray hair. He was well aware of his haphazard appearance. "Yeah, fine," he responded briskly, trying to appear more relaxed, more at ease, more apathetic… more like this case didn't mean a lot more than he was willing to admit.

"No, you're not," Thirteen said with a gentle glare. She swiftly flipped herself onto the bed and buried herself against him. "You do realize it's alright not to be okay all of the time." House didn't respond. "Fine," Thirteen said to his silence, comprehending that he would not budge on opening up… at least not so easily.

After a few minutes of complete quiet, House began to talk. "I spoke to Alice today. She figured out that we're dating."

Thirteen smiled. "Perceptive. Why am I not surprised?" House smirked. Urging him to continue, she led, "She seems like a good kid."

"Yeah, I guess."

Her smile faded slightly, as she remembered the house, the situation, the problems. "You know, the apartment isn't so great."

"I assumed. It isn't in the best part of town, and Emma isn't the most responsible person I know." He looked down at her, looked quizzically at her face, which had obviously changed in demeanor. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I mean, it's just not fair that she has to deal with that. She's barely sixteen, Greg."

"Life's not fair," House responded, standard Housism tone. Thirteen scoffed and rolled her eyes and he softened. "Hey," he said, pressing his lips against her temple, "I know it's not fair…at all. But there's not much we can do about the past." Thirteen sighed, knowing that fact certainly could not be denied. House propped himself up and leaned over her. "We can, however, worry about the present, and I have some ideas of what I'd like to do at this exact moment," he said with a smirk. Thirteen smiled and captured his lips. Yep, they could worry about their problems in the morning.

_The "I don't know," the "maybe so"_

_Is the only real reply_

_It is the only real reply_

A/N: Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7: Cures

A/N:

Sorry for the very, very long wait :( I would like to thank all of my readers for the support they have for this story. I usually like to thank each reviewer personally, however I worry that I am too far behind to do so, as I am not sure who I have responded to and who I have not. Therefore, that you so much to everyone who has reviewed, favorite, and even just read this story. I appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D.

Song: The Poison – All American Rejects

**Chapter 7: Cures**

_I can be pensive,  
You can be so sure.  
You'll be the poison,  
You'll be the cure._

Before House could even limp halfway to the elevator the following morning, he was intercepted by none other than Dr. Lisa Cuddy… and the irritated scowl that was painted across her countenance. "House," she barked at him, "A patient with severe brain trauma and hemorrhage and _you_ let your entire team go home. Who in their right mind does that?" This question, along with her wild gesticulations, received only in response House's seemingly apathetic stare, a gaze straight to the floor tiles.

"First of all, who ever said I was in my right mind. Second, there was nothing we could do… unless of course you wanted them to sit staring at blood panels, waiting for them to show results. God, that's worse than watching paint dry!"

"But it _is_ more responsible than leaving a critical patient unattended. My God, you'd think under the circumstances that you'd…"

"What "circumstances"?" House asked, deadpan.

Cuddy's words caught in her throat. "Uh… I mean, with Alice being you're…you know"

"According to medical standards one is supposed to remain unbiased, completely impartial to his or her case," House interrupted. "For once, I'm just following the rules." With that and a burning glare, he continued past her to the elevator, through the bustling yet anodyne walls, up to his puzzle… a multifaceted one at that.

***H*O*U*S*E*M*D***

Taub, Thirteen, and Foreman looked up over steaming cups of coffee and tea, silent, expectant. "So," House suggested, "any results."

"They were able to stop the hemorrhaging, however she hasn't woken up yet, so the actual damage cannot be assessed yet; Chase said he'd come up when there's any news As for the panel, we can rule out all bacterial infections; the viral tests will take a bit longer to incubate and analyse though…"

Foreman was interrupted by the subtle swing of the glass office door and the grimly foreboding face of his colleague. "Emma's awake though delusional. Brain damage was severe; motor and sensory function is impaired…well, absent. She has intermittent paralysis. Her involuntary functions are compromised. Her level of cognizance is in fact surprising…" He pause, inhaling deeply, brushing his matted blond hair from his eyes. "House, we need to start treatment now. She may not make it much longer with or without any drugs. We have to try something."

House nodded in solemn accord. With a sigh so subtle is seemed scarcely a breath, he stated one last time, "Epileptic seizure, myocarditis, potential paralysis. What's the best treatment option?

After a great deal of charged silence, Taub offered, "It may still be Chagas. Paralysis is another symptom."

"B12 deficiency that resulted in permanent damage, maybe?" Thirteen cautiously hypothesized.

After a few more seconds, Foreman's face, creased with thought, loosened, an idea coming to his mind. "What about primary hyperaldosteronism? Thirteen's right in that we haven't carefully monitored her vitamin levels… nor her hormone levels, because the results could have be inaccurately by the crash trauma. But hyperaldosteronism would account for heart palpitations, muscles spasms, as in the "epileptic" episode, and overall weakness, "paralysis."

Each doctor looked at House, expectant, awaiting his decision, like he was a genius, like he was God himself. He furrowed his brow, glaring at the carpeting of the floor, internally overwhelmed by the consequences of this _one_ decision. If he chose incorrectly, he in essense killed the mother of his child. Rationally, he knew this factor shouldn't effect him; after all, he had known Alice for less than a week and mistakes in medicine happened all the time… it was called medical practice for Christ's sake. He was not the cause of her illness… yet he could be considered the cause of her death. He wondered why this fact matter, why the weight of his pulled on the heartstrings of his soul…

He looked into the teal orbs of Thirteens anxious eyes.

"Start her on dieuretics, Aldacone 400 mg for primary hyperaldosteronism."

***H*O*U*S*E*M*D***

Bloodshot, dry eyes, staring straight ahead. Patient file, COBURN, EMMA, open on the desk, unread. House reclined against the back of his desk chair, waiting. Because time was the factor now, to see if she would make it through the night, make it through the minute. Right now it was hour 5, 2 A.M. and the hospital was silent. Only the occasional fluttering of nurses caring for critical patients, his team slipping in and out the office to grab a cup of coffee between shifts of caring for Emma. Cuddy had left; House did not want her misguided sympathy. So had Wilson; House didn't want his analytical stare. Foreman and Taub absorbed themselves with medicin and Chase was called into surgery. House had banished Thirteen; he didn't want to snap at her, and she understood this without it being admitted, monitoring the state of Emma's fluids rather than her boyfriend's mind.

So House was alone… Well, left in the diversity of his own thoughts, searching for answers, searching for meaning… to the case, to his life. He tapped his cane softly against the floor.

Down the hall, Alice Coburn had woken up. She heard the erratic beeping monitors, like digital screams, heard the gossip of the nurses who looked at her with pity, the daughter of a dying woman. And she wondered if she cared.

House pulled himself from his chair, stumbling with his awkward gait down the hall, the rhythmic click of his cane permeating the silence.

Alice heard that noise, identified that noise. She had heard it often lately, every night in fact since she had been admitted into PPTH. She knew the approaching events, and sealed her eyes in fabricated sleep.

House entered the room of his supposedly sleeping daughter (Was she that?) and sat down next to her bed. He examined her, traced the soft, pixie shape of her face with his eyes, saw the familiarity of her brow bone in his own. Looked at the fallen wisps of her sandy hair that matched his before it turned pepper gray. Saw the twitch of her mouth from grin to frown…Thirteen had once commented how he did the same thing, moved his face when he dreamed. And he tried, so desperately tried, to gaze into his daughter's chest to see if she had the same jaded heart.

***H*O*U*S*E*M*D***

The following morning, House looked up into Thirteen's face as she entered his office.

"Any change?"

"No."

_So you fall down a hole,  
Thats the one place where we both know,  
You take me with you if you could but I wouldn't go.  
Because sometimes, we both loose our minds to find a better road._

A/N: I'm not quite sure about how I feel about this chapter… Please review and let me know what you think.


	8. Chapter 8: Closer

Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D.

Song: Strange –Tokio Hotel and Kerli [SUCH A GOOD SONG!]

A/N: **WARNING**: Some **strong language** in this chapter. Discretion advised.

**Chapter 8: Closer**

_A freak of nature  
Stuck in reality  
I don't fit the picture  
I'm not what you want me to be  
Sorry_

"How bad is she?"

"Her vitals have been increasingly dropping over the past couple of hours; all of her involuntary functions are almost absent. Taub and Chase are starting her on bypass. She's completely paralysed at the moment. She can talk, but hardly… we're not too sure how much she can understand." Thirteen looked down at the floor briefly before returning her gaze to House, "Should we tell Alice?"

House shrugged. "She has the right to know. Emma's not going to make it much longer. Children generally like to say goodbye to their parents." A subtle wince of pain passed across Thirteen's face. House noticed. "I'm sorry," he said with sincerity, reaching over to stroke her hand, "I…I wasn't referring to you at all."

Thirteen forced a small smile, curling her fingers around his hand, "No, I know. It's fine." After a pause she continued, "We should probably go tell her now. There's not a lot of time left." House nodded solemnly, starting to walk from the room though still never releasing Thirteen's hand. She examined his face, which seemed inquiring. "What is it?" she said, gently squeezing his palm. House sighed.

"It's just… I can't figure out what we missed."

"House," she said softly, "It doesn't matter. It's… it's over." House shook his head abruptly, turning back towards his office. "What are you doing," Thirteen asked, perplexity spreading across her visage.

"Take Chase or Taub and go tell Alice about her mom."

"What?" Thirteen responded, her brow furrowing as her confusion transforming into rage. "House, get back over here now."

He stared directly into her eyes, lightning.

"No."

**HOUSE*MD*HOUSE*MD*HOUSE*MD**

Alice knew from the moment Dr. Chase and Dr. Hadley walked into the room, sensed the tenseness in the room and the foreboding nature of her situation.

She cleared her throat. "You figure it out?" she asked, though her question did not denote anticipation of a positive response. Chase shook his head, slowly bringing himself into her gaze, then quickly looking away. Alice took a few moments to let the reality of the expected circumstances sink in, examining the rough stitch knit of the hospital blanket and fiddling it through her thumbs. She then nodded, swallowing hard. "How much time?"

Thirteen looked at her sadly. "An hour, maybe two. We should probably get you ready to see her…" she began, moving towards her IV to position it on a portable unit.

Alice stuck out her hand to stop her. "No," she practically barked, her voice catching in her throat, "That won't… that won't be necessary." Turning her head away from the stunned faces of her doctors, she watched the sun-drenched colors blanket the horizon in a beautiful sunrise.

**HOUSE*MD*HOUSE*MD*HOUSE*MD**

Thirteen walked at a furious pace back to the differential room, her heels practically indenting the tile floor. There she met House, back to the door, reclining against a chair, positioned in front of the white board, tossing his large red ball up into the air.

Hearing her enter the room, he asked, "How'd she take it?"

Thirteen scoffed. "She refused to see her mother." A few seconds passed, a few seconds of seeing House so at ease, carelessly playing with that stupid ball. "Like you even fucking care," she growled through her breath.

House froze. Placing the ball on the glass table, he stood up and turned around, meeting her irate gaze with calmer, though equally incensed, eyes. "You think I don't care?"

Thirteen shook her head in incredulity, practically choking on her rage. "Look at you, Greg. You're just…sitting there! You're just freaking sitting there while you let two of your _employees_ tell your _daughter_ that her entire world is going to…collapse. You care more about this fucking puzzle than another human being, your freaking kid." She sneered, throwing her hands up in relent, "Why am I even surprised?" House glowered back at her, fighting her brutal gaze with his own. He then turned and sat back down in his chair. "That's right. Go back to your puzzle. Live in your freaking disillusioned sense of hope." She turned to leave, knew that the argument was over, knew that everything was over. But House then stood back up and turned around. Thirteen felt her heart drop when she saw his eyes red and inflamed with burning tears. Her glare softened as his eyes remained fixed on the carpet.

"I'm afraid," he practically whispered like a boy, his feet firm, frozen to the ground. Thirteen started slowly, almost cautiously towards him, towards House as he began to crumble, towards the acerbic man as his hardened exterior broke as though pummeled by a chisel, towards the man she had grown to love. She carefully and delicately placed her hands on his shoulder, as though to support his fragmenting buttress. She looked up to him, watched the few fallen tears trickle through the crevices of his face, pain growing in her own throat as she waited for him to speak. "I…I care about her, Remy," he almost explained, "I care so much about her that it scared me… scares me. Because every time I look in the mirror now… I see him."

"Who, Greg?" Thirteen asked, charily bring her thumb to stroke his cheek.

"My father," he shook his head slowly, self-consciously, "God, I know how fucking ridiculous that sounds. For all I know I probably took too many Vicodin. But I can't… I can't get him out of my head. I keep seeing… he used to hit me…beat me, Rem. God, so hard. I'd have bruises… he'd used to say 'Got to be tough, little fucker. Daddy knows tough. He's seen fucking shit.' Today he probably would have been diagnosed with PTSD. I mean, it didn't matter when I was older. But I was five when he…I mean, with a bat…I" House knew he had to continue, felt he had to continue. But this was so out of character it shocked even him. He had built of a shell from his father, a shell that he was afraid to crack open and see what was underneath. He took a deep breath, hearing the soft wisps of Remy's voice through her own tears saying 'It's okay. Keep going.' "When you first told me about Alice's house, the shit she lived with… all I kept thinking was that it was better than the hell hole I could offer her… how she didn't deserve me… how no one deserved this…"

Thirteen wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding him, holding him together. She felt the overwhelming sensation of his burning tears against her neck, placed kisses against his temple to let him know that she was there, fully and really there.

Chase walked into the differential room only to see this shocking display. Unnoticed, he quietly closed the blinds, turned, and walked back down the hall.

_Don't come closer  
You'll die slowly  
In my arms,  
Forever you'll be strange, strange  
Like me…_

A/N: I know I'm bound to get a few "out of character" comments in review. I totally understand; I was just trying to experiment a bit with House's softer side because I know it's there, lol. Please let me know what you think!


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